


Five Times Sherlock Didn’t Say ‘I Love You’ and One Time He Did

by startrekto221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre and Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekto221B/pseuds/startrekto221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was never sure that Sherlock Holmes loved him.<br/>He considered it an odd sort of privilege to be close to something so brilliant. To see it in a light that no one else ever had. A man like him, he reasoned, was destined for an ordinary life, and with Sherlock it didn’t have to be so. That was enough for him, he thought. Love he could find elsewhere. Love was another matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1\. John loved it when people laughed. He knew some did it because they recognized a joke had been said, and felt obliged. Some simply laughed at anything or liked the sound of their own laugh. Others laughed because everyone else was laughing and it was comfortable to do the same. Only one kind of laugh, however, was special.

It was the kind of laugh that was stifled. The person had found whatever was said so amusing that they briefly lost control. Perhaps the situation was too serious for laughing and so they held back. Perhaps it was an ‘inside’ joke that they would rather not draw attention to.

Sherlock did this all the time. The half-smirk. The ill-timed snicker at crime scenes. And every time he did he was telling John that he had said something significant enough to break the constant analytical thought stream. Powerful enough to break from the aloof, cold persona.

John was never sure that Sherlock Holmes loved him. But the proof was in the laughter. It’s frequency. The fact that it was drawn from John more than from any other person ever before. But John only knew he could make Sherlock laugh and briefly be free from the constant barrage of data. That was enough for him. And love was another matter.


	2. Chapter 2

2\. “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s idiotic.”

“What an idiot.”

Sherlock’s favorite word. John had heard it in infinitely many contexts and variations. To others it was tinged with frustration. _Why can’t you see? Why are you so blind?_ It was rarely ever addressed to John. But once when it was. It meant something different.

“Honestly, John, you’re an idiot.”

_I can’t actually believe you just did that. But I don’t mind. Because you’re my idiot._

John was never sure that Sherlock Holmes loved him. He only noticed that Sherlock used the same words around him as he did around everyone else—only a precious few degrees warmer. Not warm enough for John to see. John only knew that he was above these other people. He was a friend. And that was enough. Love was another matter.


	3. Chapter 3

3\. John grinned like an idiot whenever his pocket vibrated. He would never tell Sherlock of this, but during a rather monotonous day at the clinic, texts from his mad genius flatmate were the only thing keeping him sane.

_Get the milk on your way home. SH_

_I shall require aerosol. SH_

_Tell me where you hid the cigarettes. Or the jumper gets it. SH [Image attached]_

_Bored. SH_

_I need a case. SH_

_When do you get home? SH_

_Come at once. SH_

_I need a fire extinguisher. Nothing is on fire. SH_

_Lestrade is being dull. SH_

_John. I’m bored. SH_

_Need a spool of rope, some iodine. Experiment. SH_

The truth of the matter was that Sherlock liked the texts almost as much as John did. The sarcastic rebukes made him laugh in spite of himself. The sassy retorts managed to relieve his thirst for nicotine during long stretches of boredom. For the first time in his life he had a relationship with an another human being based on something other than blood or mutual obligation. And despite the sociopathic tendencies he claimed to have, the detective’s texts meant more than the black and white words blinking up at John on a tiny screen. _I miss you when you’re not with me. I love you. Reply to me. Reciprocate._

John was never sure that Sherlock Holmes loved him. All John knew was that Sherlock was a difficult person who had come to rely on him, to get materials for experiments that they would fight over, to pacify him during the lull between cases. He was needed. And that was enough. Love was another matter.


	4. Chapter 4

4\. Sherlock hated John’s girlfriends. Either that or he didn’t care enough about them to acknowledge their existence. Whichever it was, John found it highly annoying, and smoothing over relations between his flat mate and the various women he brought back to the flat had become so taxing that he often suggested they go back to their place instead.

Women John dated often complained of having to compete with Sherlock Holmes. Which was ridiculous of course. Sherlock wasn’t, never had been, and never would be, John’s boyfriend. Still. Maybe they had a point.

Sherlock wasn’t frustrated at the women John dated because they were dull. Everyone was dull. He had gotten used to it. Moved on. No. This was different. He snapped at them. He ignored their being around. Forgot their names. Because he didn’t like sharing John’s affection. He interrupted John’s dates both for the case at hand and also because he hated someone else having John’s undivided interest and attention. _Don’t keep going out with those women. Spend all your time with me. We can have a lot more fun together. You know you don’t like walks in the park and uneventful restaurant dates. You like danger. You like me. I love you. Come with me._

John was never sure Sherlock Holmes loved him. All he knew was that Sherlock was intolerable around the women he brought around and was probably the reason he never had a steady girlfriend longer than a few weeks. Though, in spite of it all, he might not have a girlfriend most of the time, but he had a best friend. And that was enough. Love was another matter.


	5. Chapter 5

5\. Sherlock was on the roof of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. He was talking to John on the phone. And John’s entire world was beginning to break apart.

“This phone call. It’s my note.”

_I’m willing to die for you. I like the sound of your voice. Hearing it reminds me why I have to do what I’m going to do. I love you. I am so sorry._

He watched Sherlock fall and ran to him. In desperate agony he took his pulse. Nothing. Sherlock Holmes was gone.

John was never sure Sherlock Holmes had loved him. Now that he was missing from his life, all he knew was that he had loved Sherlock Holmes, and he would never be the same without him. Perhaps admitting that, after all this time, was enough? He had lost everything when he lost the man. Love was another matter.


	6. Chapter 6

6\. Sherlock had been back from the dead around eleven months. It hadn’t been easy forgiving him. Near impossible actually. But John had eventually caved. It was Sherlock after all. Hard to resist. Now they were slowly sinking back into their ‘normal’, and John hated and loved it. He had never been given a proper explanation as to why Sherlock would sacrifice himself like that. Why he was kept in the dark. And now they were going to be back to their old routine. Just like that. Life with Sherlock was far better than life without. But were they just going to pretend like nothing had changed? John couldn’t do that. No. Not this time.

“Just once,” he implored, “Just tell me why”

“I have told you several times. In detail. My plan. The necessary steps and precautions to achieve it. What did I miss?” Sherlock replied rather innocently.

“Not the logic of it, Sherlock”

“Ah, I see, so after all this time you still don’t see it,” he sighed.

“See what? What am I supposed to bloody see? You died. That’s what I saw,” he snapped angrily, reliving the feeling of the hole in his chest.     

“Now that I think on it, it was obvious to me for quite some time,” Sherlock said almost to himself.

“What was obvious?” his pulse quickened, yet he didn’t dare hope that Sherlock would say what he desperately wanted him to say.

“John, I love you, I always have,”

John had never been sure that Sherlock Holmes loved him. All he had known was a great friendship within the walls of 221B Baker Street. That had been enough. This, what he had now, was a dream within a dream. He knew Sherlock loved him. They would have a life together. He had the love he had been chasing after all these years. Now everything else was another matter.


End file.
